Proving Ground
Title: Proving Ground
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Characters/Pairing: Caspian, Drinian
Disclaimer: CS Lewis has been dead for some time. If he were posting this stuff on the internet that would be weird, wouldn't it? Narnia is now owned by his estate, Walden Media & Disney. Not me.
Summary: Caspian isn't having a good day. They've hardly left Narnia but he's already exhausted. VoTD fic set during the week spent on Galma before the Pevensies and Eustace join the ship.
Rating: PG
Word count: Approx 1200.
Author's notes: I appear to have written gen. Not sure what's going on there. This was supposed to be Caspian/Drinian but ended up being all about Caspian's moodiness and self-doubt. Maybe he just doesn't like Drinian? Poor Drinian. Follow up to Storytellers, though it can be read on its own. Again, largely book-verse with movie-verse Caspian. Also, my knowledge of tournaments, jousting and horses comes almost entirely from watching A Knight's Tale.
Caspian wasn’t going to be able to sit down for a week. He was sure of it. His backside must be one giant bruise. His legs ached, there was a dull sting in his side that made him wonder what state his ribs were in, and his left ankle throbbed horribly. His right shoulder had long since passed through dull ache and searing pain and was now reaching unpleasantly numb. He made his way back to where Drinian and Rhince were waiting anxiously, trying not to wince or limp. The cheering of the crowd sounded strangely muffled and distant and he focussed on staying upright; Kings of Narnia do not faint just because they have been knocked off their horse a time or two. Or twelve.
“You are acquitting yourself admirably, Sire,” Drinian said as he reached him and took him by the arm. Rhince left with a quick bow to go and retrieve the horse.
“It’s kind of you to say so, if not entirely accurate,” Caspian said, shifting so that the crowd couldn’t see that Drinian was the only thing keeping him standing.
“Today is not a good day,” Drinian admitted, “but you have had some victories. Besides, you have performed more than commendably this week, Sire.” This was true. If there was no chance of him winning this tournament he had at least not disgraced himself, and he knew the whole island was talking about the King of Narnia. If at times he felt they were talking about someone wholly different from himself, well, that was probably for the best.
But today. Today was not going well. His concentration seemed to have deserted him, and with it his confidence. He knew the crowd were cheering for him as much as for his opponent, who was a popular local knight, but it did little to raise his spirits. He was glad Reepicheep had been banned from attending after several knights had been deeply offended by his disparaging comments about their skill; he could do without the mouse's respectful disappointment. He had spent the last three years proving himself to the Narnians and to the Telmarines, and just as he succeeded he found he had to do the same thing here in Galma. And he would have to do it again in Terebinthia, and the Seven Isles, and the Lone Islands and who knew where after that. He saw his future stretch ahead of him, and it was not the adventure he had been hoping for.
But that was the future, and this was today. And today was not going well.
“This would be easier if I had Destrier with me,” Caspian said with something like despair as he watched Rhince lead his horse back to him. It was a fine animal, and it was good of the Duke to lend it to him, but they didn’t know each other and they did not seem to be getting along today. Destrier would not have let him fall so often. He wouldn’t keep wandering off at the end of every bout either.
“But you do not have Destrier with you,” Drinian said softly. Caspian looked at him sharply, but Drinian’s face was a picture of quiet respect as he waited to assist Caspian onto the horse Rhince had returned.
“True,” Caspian said as he grasped the saddle and tried to work up the determination to pull himself onto the horse. “Thank you, my friend,” he added quietly. It was no good wishing for things that could not be, something that Caspian ought to have learned by now but repeatedly found himself forgetting.
Summoning the last scraps of his strength he pulled himself up, barely aware of Drinian’s hands supporting him as every muscle screamed in protest. The world went hazy for a moment and he wondered how he would ever be able to hold a lance, let alone try to knock another man off a horse with it. Almost automatically, he reached out and grasped the handle of the weapon Drinian held out for him, wrapping his fingers around it as tightly as he could. If he lessened his grip even slightly, he knew he would let the lance fall and he had no doubt he would not be able to pick it up again.
Caspian took a deep breath as he and his horse readied themselves, that simple action causing fire to burn through him. He took another breath, and another, and another; daring the pain to try and beat him. This was his last chance. He just needed to hold on for this one last bout and then it would all be over. He patted the horse's neck, realising he didn’t even know the animal’s name. It really was a fine beast, and it was not its fault that Caspian had not been at his best today. It would get him through this, they would get through this together, and Caspian would be able to walk, or at least hobble, out of the arena with his head high.
He kicked the horse into action and it responded quickly; it had stood up to the day’s exertions better than he had. Caspian felt energy surging through him, momentarily washing away the pain as he thundered towards his opponent, the world streaking into a blur around him, the ground rushing away beneath him. It was only seconds before they reached each other, before Caspian felt the impact in his arm that told him he had found his mark. It took a long moment for him to realise that he had not felt the corresponding impact in his chest, and another to realise he was not on the ground this time, but was still seated on his horse. Oh, wonderful horse! Greatest of all creatures, surely!
He trotted back towards Drinian and Rhince, smiling. The pain was returning, but for the most part was kept at bay by the euphoria that flowed through him. He paused briefly to congratulate the winner as he picked himself up off the ground and then continued on to where Drinian and Rhince were once again looking on anxiously.
“No need to look so worried, friends,” he said happily as he dismounted, ignoring the pain that shot through his ankle as he hit the ground. He embraced them both and then waved at the cheering crowd as he removed his helmet. He had at least been able to salvage something. He had not won. But he had not lost.
“Are you alright, Sire?” Rhince asked, his worried look diminished a little but by no means gone.
“I’m fine, Rhince. Absolutely fine.” Caspian smiled at the sceptical look they both gave him. “I have been better, but there is nothing to worry about,” he said as the burning started again in his shoulder and his ribs began to ache. “Would you be so kind as to return this excellent beast to his stable and see that he is well rewarded?” Caspian patted the horse’s neck once more.
“Of course, Sire,” Rhince said with a bow, leading the horse away.
Caspian was about to leave when Drinian motioned him towards the crowd. His smile was sympathetic. "I am sorry, Sire. But you must accept your prize from the lady Althea."
Caspian looked at the seemingly infinite distance between him and the stands where the Duke sat with his daughter and felt his elation disappear entirely to be replaced by a sudden overwhelming exhaustion. All he wanted was to lie down somewhere and not get up again for a very long time. Why would no-one let him do that? He wished, not for the first time, that he had been knocked out in the first round. But no, that would not do. Keeping a smile on his face he walked over to the stands, aware the whole time that Drinian was just behind him, ready to step in if Caspian did anything embarassing like forget the girl's name, or fall over.
He stood before the Duke and Althea as she placed a wreath around his neck and pressed a silver jewel-studded cup into his hands. "Congratulations, your Majesty. It was well fought."
Her smile was understanding, like Drinian's, and Caspian realised all in a rush that she saw right through him, was no more interested in being his queen than he was in having her, and could have been a friend this whole week if he had only opened is eyes. His smile was genuine when he said "Thank you, my lady".
He forced himself to remain standing as she spoke to the victor and presented him with his prize, the crowd swimming before his eyes. He seemed to stand there for an age and then, to his enormous relief, he found himself being subtly led from the arena by Drinian.
They left slowly, Caspian waving and smiling the whole way. The crowd didn’t seem to know who to cheer for the loudest and had settled for simply making as much noise as possible. Caspian’s smile faltered as the noise hit him afresh; all of a sudden he had a powerful headache to add to his list of ailments. As soon as they were out of sight, Caspian grasped Drinian’s arm, grateful as he had never been before for his friend’s strength. He felt Drinian's arm go around him as they made their way slowly back to the sanctuary of the castle. “Drinian,” he said faintly, “I think I need a hot bath. And a bed.”
"Already taken care of, Sire. I asked Reepicheep to make sure both were ready for you when you returned. No doubt he is haranguing the maids about the appropriate water temperature for a King's bath water as we speak."
Caspian felt he might cry or throw himself into his friends arms, but he had not disgraced himself yet and he was not about to start now. He simply tightened his grip on Drinian's arm and allowed himself to lean a little more heavily on him. "Thank you, my friend."
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Characters/Pairing: Caspian, Drinian
Disclaimer: CS Lewis has been dead for some time. If he were posting this stuff on the internet that would be weird, wouldn't it? Narnia is now owned by his estate, Walden Media & Disney. Not me.
Summary: Caspian isn't having a good day. They've hardly left Narnia but he's already exhausted. VoTD fic set during the week spent on Galma before the Pevensies and Eustace join the ship.
Rating: PG
Word count: Approx 1200.
Author's notes: I appear to have written gen. Not sure what's going on there. This was supposed to be Caspian/Drinian but ended up being all about Caspian's moodiness and self-doubt. Maybe he just doesn't like Drinian? Poor Drinian. Follow up to Storytellers, though it can be read on its own. Again, largely book-verse with movie-verse Caspian. Also, my knowledge of tournaments, jousting and horses comes almost entirely from watching A Knight's Tale.
Caspian wasn’t going to be able to sit down for a week. He was sure of it. His backside must be one giant bruise. His legs ached, there was a dull sting in his side that made him wonder what state his ribs were in, and his left ankle throbbed horribly. His right shoulder had long since passed through dull ache and searing pain and was now reaching unpleasantly numb. He made his way back to where Drinian and Rhince were waiting anxiously, trying not to wince or limp. The cheering of the crowd sounded strangely muffled and distant and he focussed on staying upright; Kings of Narnia do not faint just because they have been knocked off their horse a time or two. Or twelve.
“You are acquitting yourself admirably, Sire,” Drinian said as he reached him and took him by the arm. Rhince left with a quick bow to go and retrieve the horse.
“It’s kind of you to say so, if not entirely accurate,” Caspian said, shifting so that the crowd couldn’t see that Drinian was the only thing keeping him standing.
“Today is not a good day,” Drinian admitted, “but you have had some victories. Besides, you have performed more than commendably this week, Sire.” This was true. If there was no chance of him winning this tournament he had at least not disgraced himself, and he knew the whole island was talking about the King of Narnia. If at times he felt they were talking about someone wholly different from himself, well, that was probably for the best.
But today. Today was not going well. His concentration seemed to have deserted him, and with it his confidence. He knew the crowd were cheering for him as much as for his opponent, who was a popular local knight, but it did little to raise his spirits. He was glad Reepicheep had been banned from attending after several knights had been deeply offended by his disparaging comments about their skill; he could do without the mouse's respectful disappointment. He had spent the last three years proving himself to the Narnians and to the Telmarines, and just as he succeeded he found he had to do the same thing here in Galma. And he would have to do it again in Terebinthia, and the Seven Isles, and the Lone Islands and who knew where after that. He saw his future stretch ahead of him, and it was not the adventure he had been hoping for.
But that was the future, and this was today. And today was not going well.
“This would be easier if I had Destrier with me,” Caspian said with something like despair as he watched Rhince lead his horse back to him. It was a fine animal, and it was good of the Duke to lend it to him, but they didn’t know each other and they did not seem to be getting along today. Destrier would not have let him fall so often. He wouldn’t keep wandering off at the end of every bout either.
“But you do not have Destrier with you,” Drinian said softly. Caspian looked at him sharply, but Drinian’s face was a picture of quiet respect as he waited to assist Caspian onto the horse Rhince had returned.
“True,” Caspian said as he grasped the saddle and tried to work up the determination to pull himself onto the horse. “Thank you, my friend,” he added quietly. It was no good wishing for things that could not be, something that Caspian ought to have learned by now but repeatedly found himself forgetting.
Summoning the last scraps of his strength he pulled himself up, barely aware of Drinian’s hands supporting him as every muscle screamed in protest. The world went hazy for a moment and he wondered how he would ever be able to hold a lance, let alone try to knock another man off a horse with it. Almost automatically, he reached out and grasped the handle of the weapon Drinian held out for him, wrapping his fingers around it as tightly as he could. If he lessened his grip even slightly, he knew he would let the lance fall and he had no doubt he would not be able to pick it up again.
Caspian took a deep breath as he and his horse readied themselves, that simple action causing fire to burn through him. He took another breath, and another, and another; daring the pain to try and beat him. This was his last chance. He just needed to hold on for this one last bout and then it would all be over. He patted the horse's neck, realising he didn’t even know the animal’s name. It really was a fine beast, and it was not its fault that Caspian had not been at his best today. It would get him through this, they would get through this together, and Caspian would be able to walk, or at least hobble, out of the arena with his head high.
He kicked the horse into action and it responded quickly; it had stood up to the day’s exertions better than he had. Caspian felt energy surging through him, momentarily washing away the pain as he thundered towards his opponent, the world streaking into a blur around him, the ground rushing away beneath him. It was only seconds before they reached each other, before Caspian felt the impact in his arm that told him he had found his mark. It took a long moment for him to realise that he had not felt the corresponding impact in his chest, and another to realise he was not on the ground this time, but was still seated on his horse. Oh, wonderful horse! Greatest of all creatures, surely!
He trotted back towards Drinian and Rhince, smiling. The pain was returning, but for the most part was kept at bay by the euphoria that flowed through him. He paused briefly to congratulate the winner as he picked himself up off the ground and then continued on to where Drinian and Rhince were once again looking on anxiously.
“No need to look so worried, friends,” he said happily as he dismounted, ignoring the pain that shot through his ankle as he hit the ground. He embraced them both and then waved at the cheering crowd as he removed his helmet. He had at least been able to salvage something. He had not won. But he had not lost.
“Are you alright, Sire?” Rhince asked, his worried look diminished a little but by no means gone.
“I’m fine, Rhince. Absolutely fine.” Caspian smiled at the sceptical look they both gave him. “I have been better, but there is nothing to worry about,” he said as the burning started again in his shoulder and his ribs began to ache. “Would you be so kind as to return this excellent beast to his stable and see that he is well rewarded?” Caspian patted the horse’s neck once more.
“Of course, Sire,” Rhince said with a bow, leading the horse away.
Caspian was about to leave when Drinian motioned him towards the crowd. His smile was sympathetic. "I am sorry, Sire. But you must accept your prize from the lady Althea."
Caspian looked at the seemingly infinite distance between him and the stands where the Duke sat with his daughter and felt his elation disappear entirely to be replaced by a sudden overwhelming exhaustion. All he wanted was to lie down somewhere and not get up again for a very long time. Why would no-one let him do that? He wished, not for the first time, that he had been knocked out in the first round. But no, that would not do. Keeping a smile on his face he walked over to the stands, aware the whole time that Drinian was just behind him, ready to step in if Caspian did anything embarassing like forget the girl's name, or fall over.
He stood before the Duke and Althea as she placed a wreath around his neck and pressed a silver jewel-studded cup into his hands. "Congratulations, your Majesty. It was well fought."
Her smile was understanding, like Drinian's, and Caspian realised all in a rush that she saw right through him, was no more interested in being his queen than he was in having her, and could have been a friend this whole week if he had only opened is eyes. His smile was genuine when he said "Thank you, my lady".
He forced himself to remain standing as she spoke to the victor and presented him with his prize, the crowd swimming before his eyes. He seemed to stand there for an age and then, to his enormous relief, he found himself being subtly led from the arena by Drinian.
They left slowly, Caspian waving and smiling the whole way. The crowd didn’t seem to know who to cheer for the loudest and had settled for simply making as much noise as possible. Caspian’s smile faltered as the noise hit him afresh; all of a sudden he had a powerful headache to add to his list of ailments. As soon as they were out of sight, Caspian grasped Drinian’s arm, grateful as he had never been before for his friend’s strength. He felt Drinian's arm go around him as they made their way slowly back to the sanctuary of the castle. “Drinian,” he said faintly, “I think I need a hot bath. And a bed.”
"Already taken care of, Sire. I asked Reepicheep to make sure both were ready for you when you returned. No doubt he is haranguing the maids about the appropriate water temperature for a King's bath water as we speak."
Caspian felt he might cry or throw himself into his friends arms, but he had not disgraced himself yet and he was not about to start now. He simply tightened his grip on Drinian's arm and allowed himself to lean a little more heavily on him. "Thank you, my friend."